


Come Fly With Me

by i_claudia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re somewhere over Greenland and the dark cabin is finally, blessedly quiet – God, Merlin thought the woman in 32A was never going to stop pressing her fucking call button – when the lavatory door opens suddenly in front of him and he’s yanked inside.</p>
<p>Merlin is a flight attendant. Yep. That happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ras_elased and originally posted on LJ [here. (12 January 2010)](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/46341.html)

They’re somewhere over Greenland and the dark cabin is finally, blessedly quiet – God, Merlin thought the woman in 32A was _never_ going to stop pressing her fucking call button – when the lavatory door opens suddenly in front of him and he’s yanked inside.

He nearly elbows his assailant hard in the stomach before he realizes it’s Arthur, holding a hand over his mouth and snickering in his ear.

“Jesus, Arthur!” Merlin hisses, wrenching Arthur’s hand away and turning around in the cramped space. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Missed you,” Arthur said, nosing at Merlin’s neck, and this is really _not_ the time or place for Merlin to be this turned on.

“I’m working,” Merlin protests, but his hands come up to latch onto Arthur’s shoulders anyway. “And you’re the _pilot_ , for fuck’s sake. How did you even get out of the cockpit? Isn’t it locked?”

“Lancelot can handle things while I’m gone,” Arthur says, and completely ignores the second, more important part of Merlin’s question. Merlin’s pretty sure they’re breaking about eighteen regulations here, but Arthur’s hands are untucking the back of Merlin’s shirt to slide up along his back, and Arthur’s teeth are tugging gently on his earlobe, and Merlin’s never been good at resisting Arthur in full seduction mode.

“Arthur—” he says, one last-ditch effort at holding back, but Arthur presses him closer and slides their mouths together, licking at Merlin’s lips, and Merlin gives in, opening up to Arthur entirely.

Arthur’s a filthy kisser, and he and Merlin have been doing this long enough in seedy hotel rooms and airport toilets that he knows exactly how Merlin likes it: aggressive, deep, with just a little hint of teeth. Merlin kisses him back just as fiercely, pressing Arthur back against the sink because there’s nowhere else for them to go. 

When Arthur breaks off to mouth at the line of Merlin’s jaw, sucking a path down Merlin’s throat, Merlin fists his hands in the lapels of Arthur’s jacket and draws a hissing breath in through his teeth. “No marks,” he whispers, but he can’t help grinding forward onto Arthur’s thigh. “No – _oh_ – Arthur, Morgana will _kill_ me, no marks.”

“Fine,” Arthur grumbles, bestowing one last lick before turning to the more pressing issue of Merlin’s belt. Merlin moves his hands from Arthur’s jacket to his striped tie and pulls him in for another hungry kiss, still a little angry until Arthur finally has his trousers open and Merlin can’t think about how much trouble he’s going to be in with his supervisor because Arthur’s hand is on his cock, stroking maddeningly slow and steady.

He moans into Arthur’s mouth and Arthur’s hand jumps, just a little bit, before Arthur brushes his thumb over the head of Merlin’s cock. “God, I need you,” Arthur says, breathless, “want you just like this—”

“So help me out here,” Merlin grits out, his fingers fumbling with Arthur’s zip. Arthur makes a frustrated noise and yanks his own trousers down hard, pulling his boxers with them, and Merlin’s reaching to pull him close again when the plane lurches, throwing them together against the wall.

“I hate you. This is so stupid,” Merlin says, face buried in Arthur’s shoulder. “The plane’s going to crash and then they’re going to fire us and sue us and we’ll have to live in cardboard boxes for the rest of our short, miserable lives.”

“We’re not going to crash,” Arthur says, amused, and Merlin glares at him.

“When we’re fired, you are not allowed to visit my box,” he informs Arthur, but Arthur just rolls his eyes and wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock again, and Merlin’s hips are thrusting forward before he can stop them.

He’s pressed close enough to Arthur now that he can feel the hitch in Arthur’s breath when their cocks brush together, and he grins, pressing forward again into Arthur’s grip, reaching around to slide his hands over Arthur’s bare arse. He digs his fingers in, squeezes hard before pulling Arthur’s cheeks apart and letting a finger slip deeper to brush against Arthur’s hole.

Arthur twitches at that, sucking in an uneven breath. “Fuck, Merlin—”

“I thought that was the idea?” Merlin murmurs, arching one eyebrow, and Arthur, the bastard, twists the hand that’s still stroking Merlin, nearly succeeding in making Merlin’s eyes roll back. Merlin probes a little harder at Arthur’s entrance in retaliation, pressing just the tip of his finger inside; it’s dry, too dry, but Arthur chokes and spreads his legs wider, capturing Merlin’s mouth again in a sloppy kiss.

“Lube in my pocket,” he breathes when they pull apart, loosening Merlin’s collar and tie and bending his head to suck a mark into Merlin’s collarbone while Merlin does his best not to rut against Arthur as he rifles through Arthur’s pockets.

“Gotcha,” Merlin says triumphantly, and then: “Jesus, Arthur, how much sex were you planning on having on this flight?” because the tube is enormous; Merlin isn’t sure how Arthur managed to get it through security.

“Always better to be prepared,” Arthur replies with a smug grin. Merlin just huffs and pops the cap, coating his fingers before dropping the tube into the sink, and Arthur twines his leg around one of Merlin’s, rolling his hips so that their cocks slide together and raising an eyebrow. And that’s the kind of challenge Merlin can’t turn down, so he doesn’t waste any more time before dropping his fingers back down and sliding them down the cleft of Arthur’s arse, rubbing at the tight circle of muscle. Arthur just clenches his fists in Merlin’s shirt and yanks him closer.

“Been thinking about this all day; thinking about your fingers—” He breaks off with a gasp as Merlin pushes in, hard and fast, one finger sliding slick and easy into Arthur’s tight hole. The angle is terrible and his wrist starts hurting where it’s pressing against the wall as he works his finger back and forth, deeper into Arthur, but Arthur’s slipping down the wall a little, his head tipping back as he swallows hard. “God,” he groans – too loud, they’re going to get caught, but Merlin’s too turned on to care anymore. “More, I need... give me more.”

Merlin sucks a kiss just below Arthur’s collarbone and obeys, pushing two fingers knuckle-deep into Arthur and scissoring them a bit, stretching Arthur open. He wants to drop to his knees right here, suck Arthur’s cock into his mouth until Arthur’s whimpering and coming down his throat, but there isn’t enough room and he doesn’t even want to think about how filthy the floor of the toilet is, so instead he just turns Arthur around, manhandling him, and adds another finger. Arthur groans and pushes back against him, bracing his hands against the tiny sink.

“You feel so good,” Merlin says, pressing his nose just under Arthur’s ear and nuzzling a little. “Come on, open up for me; God, you’re so tight, Arthur, gonna fill you right up—” He’s up to four fingers now, and when Arthur lets out a moan and squeezes around him the words choke off in his throat. Fuck, Arthur’s beautiful like this: trembling and glassy-eyed with need, his shirt askew and his breath coming in soft, tremulous gasps as Merlin takes him apart.

Merlin can’t wait anymore, needs to be in Arthur immediately or sooner, and he reaches down to where Arthur’s trousers are tangled around his ankles, fishing in the pockets again until he finds a condom. He very nearly gets distracted by Arthur’s cock, beautifully hard and smearing precome over the counter – it’s been so long since their last tryst, a month at least since Merlin’s been able to put his hands and his mouth on Arthur’s dick – but Arthur catches his eye in the mirror and glares.

“Merlin, don’t you dare. I need you in me _right the fuck now_ or so help me I will actually murder you.”

Arthur certainly looks angry enough to kill, his expression a little wild and his mouth red from where he’s been biting his lips, trying to keep himself quiet, and Merlin gulps and has to squeeze the base of his cock for a moment before rolling the condom on. He has vague thoughts of sliding in slowly, inch by inch into the tight, slick, heat, of making Arthur beg for it, but Arthur is insufferable and bossy and reaches back to grab Merlin’s hip and _pulls_ , shoving back at the same time, and Merlin has to stop and catch his breath once he’s in because fuck, Arthur feels amazing, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to come in _seconds_ , which is incredibly embarrassing. 

He doesn’t have long to get himself under control, because Arthur’s probably the most demanding person on the planet. 

“God, Merlin, _fuck me_ , what are you waiting for?—” Arthur cuts himself off with a huff of breath when Merlin pulls himself together enough to give a powerful roll of his hips, determined to make Arthur shut up. Arthur gasps and puts his head down and grips the sink hard, but he keeps talking anyway.

“You should wear a skirt,” he’s saying, his voice already rough, cracking a little bit when Merlin thrusts again. “Christ, yeah, one of those uniform skirts; and I’d get myself ready before the flight, finger myself – _oh_ – until I was wide open and dripping for you, and then all I’d have to do is hike your skirt up and sink down on your cock, fuck myself until neither of us could walk.”

Merlin gives a hitching sort of laugh “I’m pretty sure the company’s non-discrimination policies probably don’t extend to cross-dressing, unfortunately,” he points out, and slams into Arthur hard, one hand in a bruising hold on Arthur’s hip and the other sliding up under Arthur’s shirt, stroking the smooth plane of his stomach. Arthur makes a breathy sound that turns into a stuttering, drawn out moan, and Merlin can’t help but move faster. Arthur’s almost on his toes now, bent over the sink, but he’s still talking, pleading: _harder, Merlin, I want to feel you for a week_ , and Merlin whimpers and scrapes his nails across Arthur’s chest and obeys until Arthur can barely form words anymore, let alone sentences.

“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin pants. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it: me fucking you so hard you won’t be able to sit without feeling me, without remembering taking me so deep you can feel me in the back of your throat—”

Arthur doesn’t say anything to that except “ _Fuck_ ,” long and broken, his head tipped back on Merlin’s shoulder and his chest heaving, one hand flung out and braced on the mirror to balance himself. Merlin keeps thrusting hard and fast and as deep as he can, sliding his hand back down Arthur’s stomach to wrap around his cock, and when he scrapes his teeth along the bare skin of Arthur’s throat Arthur comes with a startled noise, an _ah-ah-ah_ that Merlin’s never heard him make before. He presses his nose into Arthur’s shoulder and lets himself go, lost in the sound of their skin slapping together and the way Arthur’s still quivering, twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm, and when Arthur clenches down around him hard Merlin’s lost, groaning out his own orgasm into the sweaty skin between Arthur’s shoulder blades.

“God, that was good,” Arthur says after, leaning limply against the wall, his trousers still around his ankles. Merlin’s tucking himself back in and zipping up, but looking in the mirror he can tell putting himself back together is going to be hopeless: his hair is wild and his cheeks incredibly flushed, and as soon as he steps outside everyone’s going to know what he’s been doing.

Arthur’s even worse off; he looks dazed and completely shagged out, smiling dopily at Merlin, his tie mostly undone and his shirt askew. “C’mere,” Arthur says, and pulls Merlin into a kiss lacking anything resembling finesse but still somehow managing to make all of Merlin’s nerves fizzle pleasantly. “That was fun,” he says. “We should do this every time we fly.”

Merlin laughs and tries not to panic, because god, Morgana is going to absolutely murder him. At least Arthur’s finally pulling up his trousers and smoothing the collar of his shirt, retying his tie. He runs his fingers through his hair, flashes Merlin a smile, and slips out the door, leaving Merlin alone to stare at the come streaking the wall and the handprints all over the mirror. 

He sighs and uses toilet paper to clean up the worst of it, then decides he just doesn’t care enough and gives a last halfhearted attempt at splashing his face to make it a little less obvious he’s just had the best shag of his life before stepping out of the lavatory. The cabin’s still dark and no one’s moving around, which is a blessing; Gwen just raises an eyebrow at him when he snags a polystyrene cup of the awful coffee they serve and drains it in one swallow. 

Morgana gives him a speaking look that clearly tells him _we will be talking about this later and it will not be pleasant for you_ but imminent death is not forthcoming, which is a positive, and he’s finally starting to relax as they start their descent to O’Hare when he reaches into his pocket for a stick of gum.

Instead of gum, he finds a pair of pilot’s wings pinned to a note with the name of a hotel and a room number. He stares at the note for a minute, scribbled in Arthur’s bold writing. then grins and tucks it back into his pocket carefully. He has at least twelve hours on the ground before he’s due to take off again, and they’re looking more exciting by the minute.


End file.
